


an ancient observer

by sinteresting_facts



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: M/M, Vignette, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinteresting_facts/pseuds/sinteresting_facts
Summary: Dusk has traveled to the shining, ancient city of Chrysílykos hoping to acquire the final piece of the sacred Wolfsong needed to complete his quest. Lykos, the wolf-spirit and guardian of the desert, is more than a little stubborn.





	an ancient observer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-write and much-needed expansion on a previous project. I'm gonna keep going with it hopefully :).
> 
> For best results listen to: Aragatz, The Cave of Rebirth, Rays of Light, and An Ancient Observer all by Tigran Hamasyan. 
> 
> Actually, just listen to all of his music.

When Dusk approached the wolf-spirit in the clear spring that ran through the baths of the palace, he didn't know what to expect. The wolf-spirit had been...normal so far, a far cry from the howling, spitting, corrupted spirits he'd encountered in his quest previously. 

Lykos was normal; scarily so. He was calm, vaguely tired or bored, even. He kept witty conversation, held opinions with ease, and spoke with an eloquence that would be expected of any normal person. Normal. 

Despite these observations, he really didn't expect a perfectly normal man wearing in a perfectly normal waist towel lounging on a rock in the shade of a perfectly normal tree. The wild mane of rust-toned hair that Lykos sported dripped with water, but still somehow retained a bit of its height. He was feeding some pebbles to one of his conjured sand pups when Dusk arrived, and a few more were eagerly clustered around him. Their short, wispy tails disintegrated when they hit the water excitedly but always rematerialized in a moment. They…_ were _ cute, as cute as constructs made of sand could be. 

The baths themselves were situated in a courtyard surrounded by smooth marble pillars and shaded by a few trees and faded awnings. A walkway made up the outer rim of the yard, behind the row of pillars. It was open-air, and the baths were a natural, rock formation that had broken through the clean marble. It wasn’t too large, just big enough for 2 fonts of spring water.

The second Dusk entered the courtyard, Lykos turned to him and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

"Is there something I can help you with?" 

He faced Dusk now, still plucking pebbles from a pile and throwing them for the sand creatures to devour. Dusk hesitated at the direct acknowledgment, shrinking back slightly. His people were depending on him to restore the balance, and if he needed to take care of this spirit like the rest, so be it. He clenched his right fist and bit his lip nervously. He just needed to get his Wolfsong first. 

"I was just—um, wondering if you, uh, had given anymore thought about sharing your song with me, Spirit.”

Well. Hopefully, Lykos favored bluntness because not even a _ dreg _ of Dusk’s latent charisma was showing itself currently. 

Lykos narrowed his eyes, and snapped his fingers, dismissing the sand wolves. He scattered the pebbles into the pool with a careless wave of his hand. His posture barely changed despite the sudden motion. He sighed softly, tucking a wet lock of hair behind his ear. 

"Tell me, Dusk of the human meddlers, what were my siblings like?” he asked, gesturing to him with a hand, speaking calmly. Dusk barely opened his mouth to answer before Lykos cut him off.

"–Because by the way you're acting–truly this display is ridiculous. Cowering like a child. I can smell the stench of fear on you from here–” He rolled his eyes quite obviously, baring his teeth in a disdainful snarl. “They must have been fire breathing beasts if you’ve come before me this way.”

"I told you yesterday, they were corrupted by the priests of the Crystal Dome. They were…unpleasant," Dusk said, he really didn’t know how to respond to that, was he truly that embarrassing?

“Hm, yes." Lykos looked bored for a second, pausing, “So, _ Dusk _,” he said it with a momentarily low, sarcastic tone, like he wasn’t deserving of the name, “Do I look corrupted to you?”

“No! Er, I mean. You look normal.” Dusk coughed, and continued. “But then again, none of the other spirits held human forms, so I wouldn’t know…” 

“Oh, old Boreas didn't show you? He was quite the pretty little thing last time I saw him, mortals from all corners used to seek out his beauty.” He snorted derisively to himself with a sneer–clearly, some sibling rivalry had occurred however long ago this was. “Whatever he lacked in charm, he gained in ethereal beauty.” 

_ So what about you? _ Dusk thought, not blind to the man laying lazily in front of him. Lykos was really quite attractive, distractingly so. His hair, although messy, was shockingly red, and bits were tied up in thin braids or knots, though most just hung freely. His face held a sharp, anglular shape, with golden eyes that upon further inspection really did affirm Lykos’s true nature. His skin was smooth and lightly tanned, and was currently glistening, covered with distracting droplets of water. A smirk seemed to be perpetually settled on his lips, revealing a pair of dimples. _ Maybe that’s his plan, draw me in with looks and then kill me. No, Dusk. Don’t think like that. Bad dog. _

“Uh, why do you take…this form?”

Lykos looked at Dusk like he was an idiot, staring him down. Dusk’s ear twitched under his merciless gaze, and he flicked his ears back, preparing to be chastised. Lykos huffed, amused. 

"I take a human form because fur is utterly repulsive in this heat." 

Dusk snorted, ears moving back to their usual position. What a perfectly normal reason. 

"Fair enough." 

"I'm glad you think so, but if you really were half as clever as you act, you'd remove your leather vest and tight clothing and trade it for a lighter ensemble.” 

“I was hoping for dinner first, at least.” 

That drew a laugh from the spirit in front of him, “Perhaps, perhaps.” 

They lapsed into silence for a second, Dusk fidgeting and Lykos eyeing him gently. 

But, the silence couldn’t last. He needed to know; needed to return to the Library as soon as possible with Lykos’ Wolfsong. The Crystal Dome’s completion drew ever closer, and he didn’t have time to waste. He relaxed slightly as he remembered his purpose, hoping that he could steer the conversation forward.

"So, then, I wager you're not corrupted by the Crystal Dome’s…New God?” Dusk asked, breaking the silence to return to his line of questioning.

"_ New God _?" Lykos snarled, and Dusk jolted. The spirit leapt from his perch, landing just inches away from Dusk. He flinched, back flat against the marble wall. He scrabbled against the surface, allowing room for Lykos to lean over him. 

"I know all the ways of the roots and sticks and creeping whispers that could_ bleed _ your people dry of their faith in whatever new ‘God’ has tickled their fancy. No fledgling ‘God’ could conquer me,” The words fell from his lips in a hushed growl as Dusk shrunk beneath him, waiting for a blow, a hail of magic, or… _ something _ to happen. 

But nothing came, and after a moment Dusk raised his eyes to survey Lykos’ above him...no hint of corruption, only the wildness of an untamed creature. He swallowed, breath stalling in his lungs. 

"I am the oldest, the wisest, and _ perhaps _ ,” he bit out the words scornfully, as though nursing an old slight. “the most childish of the spirits. But _ I _ helped birth _ your _ kind before this 'God' was worth even half a thought in this Universe."

The ancient wolf-spirit stared down at him, and Dusk matched his gaze as best he could, but finally had to relent. The size, composure and pure ferocity of the man standing over him were unbearable, and it was all Dusk could do to not cower with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

Lykos huffed a sigh, and slunk back to his rock, leaving Dusk behind like he was a boring chew-toy. The movement of gathering himself comfortably on the worn surface was vaguely canine; he circled once before settling down in a lazy curl once again. 

Still a wolf in man’s clothing. 

Dusk stared blankly for a moment, heart pounding as he caught his breath. 

A lazy, playful look came back over Lykos’s face, the heat and indignation from the moment before gone like dust in the wind. Dusk stared at the man, and his eyes fell down his body, trying to tell if there was any sign of a real attack. Lykos, ever observant, barked a laugh. 

"Impressed?" He smirked, rotating one thigh outward, revealing that his waist-wrap really did not cover much. Dusk turned a warm shade of crimson and dropped his gaze to the side quickly. Lykos rolled his eyes. 

"Alright, _ pup, _ if you're so keen on learning how to kill me,–“ _ was he really so obvious? _“–go take a look around my city. It's still quite beautiful despite its age. Bring back something interesting, if you're lucky you'll find something to kill me with." 

Dusk took the dismissal for what it was and hurried out of the bath, leaving his absolutely gorgeous– _ No. _– enemy behind. He shook his head, flicking his ears back and forth. Maybe something out there actually could help him. He made his way to the front gates and stepped out into the city, trying not to be blinded by the sun reflecting on the white stone buildings.

\--

Several hours and a few dangerous encounters later, Dusk returned to the palace with “something interesting” –an odd instrument with an elongated neck, and a tapestry. It was dark out by now, the heat of the day giving way to a cool, clear night. 

The tapestry he’d found was coiled tightly under one arm, woven with hundreds of colors, and embroidered with a musical staff. The music notated however, was in no language or symbology he could understand. Maybe the wolf-spirit would know. The instrument was also clearly a foreign invention, with a smooth bowl at the bottom and a long shaft with only 2 strings. A bow was strapped to the bowel with a length of weak, resin-coated silk. 

He wandered down the sloped corridors of the palace, trying to find Lykos. Despite the brilliant exterior and well structured great halls, the interior of the palace was quite roughly made. Stone curled and sloped in well-fashioned hallways, some walls carved with imagery and others just bare rock. Crimson and golden carpets were laid across sections of the floor, but much of it was left uncovered. In the large, pillar-strewn throne room there were tapestries covering every inch of the walls and ceiling. It was an elegant and organic building, as though a gargantuan block of marble had been dropped upon the city and dug out by hand. Who knew, maybe Lykos had done just that.

He wouldn’t still be in the baths, probably, and wasn’t at the entrance. The darkened halls were quiet, and no one had taken the time to light any of the sconces it seemed. Dusk drifted a bit, taking some time to quietly snoop around while he hunted for the wolf-spirit. Although the main bath had been relatively accessible from the main hall, the rest of the palace seemed to wind around itself in inexplicable twists and turns. Dusk wandered across an alcove concealed by a set of golden curtains. The little nook was clean, and smelled faintly of incense. Dusk poked his head through the curtains before stepping inside, hefting his cargo into a more comfortable position. 

He found himself entranced by a set of carvings on the back wall, little ribbons of marble depicting what seemed to be a gathering of people. A large, canine-headed man stood facing a row of wolf-shaped onlookers, a scale etched into the stone above. Dusk peered at the carvings for a few minutes, humming curiously to himself as he looked. He shrugged and exited the alcove, packing away the image of the carvings into his head to think about later.

He eventually heard a faint voice singing, and saw the warm glow of a lamp. He headed in the direction of the voice, and came upon a nondescript doorway draped with maroon, moth-eaten cloth. 

A single brazier was lit outside the doorway, its fire boiling with an oily snap, bubbling up from the coals. He could see that the hallway beyond it led to a shallow balcony overlooking the dead city. 

He rapped his knuckles against the stone frame, a second passing before he heard shuffling within the room. A crash echoed from behind the curtain, a high pitched bark sounding from something, or rather someone, inside. He heard papers fly. A curse–a biting growl punctuated with a foreign word– cut through the air angrily, and a beat later, a very discombobulated and very ink-stained Lykos pushed aside the maroon door-hanging. 

He blinked.

“Oh. Dusk of the ever-terribly-timed-humans has returned." 

Dusk flicked an ear in impatience. 

“Stop it with the titles. I brought you some stuff." 

Lykos looked surprised at the command, his expression melting into an almost proud look of amusement as a smirk painted his lips. 

"Let's see it then." 

He beckoned Dusk inside, and he could clearly see what the shuffling sound had come from. As Lykos cleared a space in what appeared to be a nest of papers, Dusk stared at the pile spanning both a wooden desk and the floor, containing tens of hundreds of scrolls, freshly inked. The longer parchments were curled in on themselves, buckling under the weight of the ink and their own length.

"You were writing?" Dusk asked dumbly. _ Yeah. Of course he was, idiot. _

Lykos paused his cleaning for a moment, and jerked his chin down in a curt nod.

"Yes." 

"What about?" 

"The history of the world." 

Dusk made a questioning noise, and he caught a look of impatience from the spirit. 

"Harmony, balance,” he waved a hand lazily, equal parts mockery and resignation. “The others keep nature and weather and animals in check, I keep the history." 

“Oh. Huh.”

Lykos snorted, “Hadn’t you thought to research the scary wolf-beast you were coming to destroy?”

“I tried. There wasn’t a mention of you in any of the Library’s resources.”

Lykos’ shoulders stiffened for a moment, and Dusk heard him exhale as he continued moving to the far side of the room. He sat down a cushion, motioning for Dusk to join him. Dusk placed the instrument and tapestry on the carpet before the spirit and then sat down as well, a safe distance away. Lykos looked over the tapestry briefly and his eyes brightened a tad. 

"You have excellent taste, at least,” he said delicately, as though Dusk selected the musty cloth from a boutique and not a rotting limestone cottage. 

“..Thank you?”

Lykos huffed and smoothed the tapestry out a bit more, inspecting the staff markings and notation on it for a few moments. His reaction to the instrument was delayed, turning away from the tapestry to detach the bow from its long neck. He looked it over, fingering the wood grain, and then plucking at the strings. He tuned it, gently, so as to not crack the old wood.

“2nd Generation…..genuine brushwood…shellstone embellishments…hide-strung… and Chrysílykan made—these are incredibly hard to come by, where did you find this?“

“Cellar of an old house, over by the city’s limit.”

“You traveled that far in one afternoon?”

Dusk shrugged, “I can run fast.”

Lykos hummed thoughtfully. With an inquisitive curve of his brow, he experimentally set the bow to the strings of the instrument and dragged, pulling out a fluid, somber sound. His face split into a wide grin. 

Lykos leapt up and deftly fingered out a tune, silk pants swishing as he danced about on his toes. "I haven't heard one of these in _ years!" _

Dusk simply stared, confusion and realization dawning on his face at the same time. Childish, the wolf spirit had said; yes, like a child on Yule morning. 

The melody he played was somber but strong: strangely…piercing in the air as it emanated from the foreign strings. 

Dusk pulled out his enchanted Key, a set of semi-transparent piano keys coming into focus around him. Each glowed with a soft, magical glimmer that brightened as he ran his fingers over the keys. He waited a few moments to hear the structure of Lykos’ song, and then joined in, building chords around the line. 

The two continued: Lykos moving comfortably to his rendition of this song and Dusk trying to keep up. 

The strings cut out, some time later, and Dusk looked up sharply, seeing the spirit on his knees, bent awkwardly around the instrument. 

"All these years..." Lykos whispered, Dusk barely catching the words as they came. His fingers stilled as well, and he tapped his Key twice to cancel the spell.

That tugged at his heart–had the spirit truly not heard a simple instrument in _years_? Had he not left the vicinity of his palace in that much time? The smallest of frowns graced his lips. This nagging feeling made Dusk grow pensive. He was no closer to understanding the spirit after all, it seemed. His silent musings drew him moreso out of the scene before him and inward, ears lowering slightly. A blank look must have come across his face, eyes drifted off to the side.

Once the spirit had broken out of his own reverie, Lykos saw Dusk in his. He sat like that, watching the smaller man for a while before he grew, well, not concerned. Definitely not. But curious. Yes. This was the longest he’d ever seen Dusk be quiet in the two days he’d known him beyond distant stories. 

A face appeared in front of Dusk’s. 

Dusk jumped an inch, and looked up to Lykos, eyes wide. All the wolf-spirit did was stare at him, golden eyes narrowed in a curious way. He tilted his head back and forth at Dusk, and then leaned back a hair as he used a finger to tilt Dusk’s chin upward. 

Dusk’s heart pounded. _ I’m going to get eaten. This is it. This is where I die. _

“Are you sick?”

Dusk blinked. 

“N-no, I don’t believe I am.”

“Then why do you look ill?” Lykos had a sort of ‘check-mate’ grin on his maw and Dusk groaned inwardly. 

“N—,” he tried again, more firmly, “I’m not _ ill, _ I was just….thinking.”

“What about?” Lykos quirked one eyebrow. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Everything that happens in my city is my business, pup.” His voice was deliciously quiet, and Dusk felt the fur on his forearms stand on end. He exhaled, but Lykos said nothing more. He patted Dusk’s cheek and stood; the spirit sauntered off, stretching those well-muscled arms up and overhead before he arrived at his desk once more. The instrument Dusk had brought was now, as he noticed, lying neatly on top of the tapestry. 

He must have been staring longer than he’d thought. 

∆∆∆∆∆

It had been weeks since Dusk first arrived in Chrysílykos, and he liked to think he’d settled in quite nicely. He bathed each morning in the baths, taking extra care with his fuzzy ears and paws, and spent his days roaming or doing odd favors for the resident pushy wolf-spirit. Lykos was begrudgingly getting used to him being there, and now, perplexingly, found a way to speak to Dusk _ without _ teasing him. But he only called upon that skill _ sometimes. _ Admittedly the spirit found great amusement in the way Dusk’s ears rose and fell when he got huffy. 

He was amused, nothing more. 

They spent the mornings arguing and the evenings playing music; it was a comfortable schedule, one that Dusk could get used to. His whole world was small and personal with just him and the wolf-spirit there. 

In the time that Dusk had been there, he’d only seen Lykos’ true form once, and even then it was just a glimpse. He’d rounded a corner in the winding sprawl of the spirit’s palace, only to hear scampering. A dozen sand pups ran down the hall, chased by a large shadow. He only recognized it as Lykos a few moments later, realizing the spindly shadow had had four black paws. He didn’t mention it for fear of some sort of rebuke from Lykos.   


It became fairly pleasant, living there and trying to work the wolf’s song out of him. Pleasant in its normal routine. 

“I grow tired of your insistence this morning, pup,” Lykos said to him one day. “Come to me again this evening and maybe you’ll have more luck.”

“What should I do until then?” Dusk was exasperated with Lykos’ stubbornness, but it wasn’t like he didn’t expect it. After living alone for what Dusk gathered had been _ many _ millennia, he figured Lykos had enough patience and obstinance to fill an ocean. And then some. 

Lykos hissed out a quiet growl, “Amuse yourself.”

This made Dusk’s ears fall back. _ Alright then. _

The day passed as many had before it. The white sun rose high into the sky, baking the Hidden Desert below it. Dusk wandered, staying underneath the shade of tattered, light-bleached awnings. This city, while at first seeming to have no reason to it, did seem to actually have a decent architect at its conception. Where most towns were laid out neatly, or around green centers, this city was arranged around 5 long canals. They were bone dry now, but Dusk imagined they once held Chrysílykos’ water supply. He’d often wondered where it had gone, and concluded that it must have had something to do with whatever drought had also rendered all of the old palms brittle and brown. 

The cooler evening came soon enough, and so Dusk returned to the wolf-spirit’s palace, more than a little apprehensive. Lykos hadn’t growled at him in a few days now. He thought he was getting somewhere. 

_ Back to square one, or maybe at this point, square negative one. _

Unlike the other many evenings he came back to the palace, this time he heard splashing from the baths. Tiredly, Dusk padded in that direction. 

Lykos was in his usual spot, curled up on his rock with his pack of sand pups around him. His back was to the entrance as he tossed pebbles to the hungry pups. Were they the same ones as always? Did they retain consciousness? 

“What are their names?” Dusk announced his arrival with the question. 

He heard a surprised noise come from Lykos, and the man turned his head. He just stared for a long heartbeat, but Dusk came no further. 

Lykos, after it was clear Dusk was not going to repeat his question, cleared his throat. 

“I don’t name them.”

“Why not?”

“It would not be appropriate for me to do so.”

“And why is that?”

Lykos narrowed his eyes, and looked like he was about to protest the questioning before he seemingly remembered _ he’d _ told Dusk to come back in the evening. He sighed. 

“It changes who they are. I cannot change things, I can only observe. If something comes to me, then I am allowed to interact but…as they are, they’re just sand. Naming them makes them something more.”

“They’re already something more,” Dusk countered, “You’re feeding them, and you play with them. I’ve seen you.”

“You’ve seen me?” Lykos’ eyes narrowed more. Dusk balked. 

“Just a flash.”

That seemed to appease him somewhat.

“They’re just sand.” His voice was flat, firm. Not to be argued. Dusk felt like arguing. 

“I’ll name them, then.”

“Do no—“ ”— Athrilde, Nehmos, Spevi, Norha.” 

Lykos stared him down, eyes burning like molten gold. Dusk took one step forward, then another. He crouched by the edge of the bath, and nickered at the pups, “Athrilde, come here boy.”

For a moment, the pups just looked confused. Lykos was frozen. 

Then one trotted over, becoming a soupy slurry of sand as it waded through the water, but its will kept it bound. It exited right next to Dusk, and so Dusk did what you’re meant to do to puppies. He pet it. One by one, the other three followed, barking and yipping in their wispy high-pitched tones. 

He didn’t need to look at Lykos to know he was seething. Dusk had his arms full of sand pups, and couldn’t help but giggle at how eager they were to jump and play. He pet Nehmos, then gave Spevi a belly rub. Norha just wanted to cuddle up to him, whereas Athrilde became very invested in “gnawing” on Spevi’s tail. Dusk was completely and utterly delighted.

He heard splashing and didn’t care until a single snap rang out and all of them dissipated into loose piles of sand. Dusk’s breath caught, staring at the sand in his palm that just seconds prior had been Norha’s chin. 

“That was cruel,” Dusk whispered, after he processed what had been done.

“Life is cruel. You have no right to name what is mine.”

This time, the growl came from Dusk. He didn’t know he could properly growl outside the normal human vocal range. Had he not been angry he would have been scared of the possibility that the curse was getting more severe. 

“I named them, therefore they were mine.”

Brown eyes met gold, each shining with their own emotions. 

“I made them. You have _ no right to them. _” Lykos stalked forward another step. Dusk stood, brushing the sand off of himself. He caught another glimmer of emotions in the spirit’s eyes as Lykos stepped closer: admiration, respect, fear, anger. 

Dusk frowned. “_ They _ have a right to a name if you’re going to make them. All living things should have a name.”

“I decide when they live, and when they die. They are made of sand, not flesh and blood.”

“Are you flesh and blood?”

“What?”

“I’m just trying to figure out, if you decide the life of sand, who decides _ your _ life,” he craned his neck back as Lykos stepped right to his front. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Lykos’ fingertips had elongated into sharp, ebony claws. 

“Are you threatening me.”

“My curiosity isn’t a threat, Spirit.”

Dusk heard him growl, low and dangerous in his throat, but he didn’t care. He had opened his mouth to speak again when those ebony claws came to grip his jaw. Dusk felt fear dash through him as Lykos tilted his face up.

“I am everything.” the spirit growled. “You cannot kill me.”

Lykos didn’t release him. He could feel sharp bits of pain where the man’s claws were _ definitely _ drawing pinpricks of blood from him. However, he also couldn’t help noticing the very long expanse of wet torso that was pressed up to his front. 

It was his turn to be amused.

“Not kill you, no,” Dusk jerked his head back, not caring about the little cuts he received as Lykos’ claws scraped through his skin. He stepped back and then to the side. He walked back to the water’s edge and began to strip himself of his clothing. Off came his belt, his leather vest, then his loose tunic, and then his pants. He stripped until he was bare, and then walked into the water. 

He waded into the deeper portion of the bath, and rolled onto his back to float. Waiting once more. 

It was only 5 minutes until he heard another snap, a _ whoosh _, and then the telltale splash of someone else entering the bath. He had never been in the baths while Lykos was there as well, always electing to be alone and vulnerable when the wolf-spirit wasn’t near. Now though, his pride rested on his trust and his calm. He continued floating. 

His calm continued for many minutes more. Then, he felt something tug at his ankle and swiftly pull him under. Dusk yelped, getting a mouthful of spring water. “FUC—“

As he resurfaced, he heard the bright sound of laughter, and rose up to above-water to look at Lykos, not 5 feet away, laughing his ass off. 

He’d heard chuckles, snorts, even a single wry laugh here or there, but never real laughter from the spirit. His face felt warm even though the water was chilled. 

He inhaled. “That,” he exhaled, “Was rude.” Water dripped from his flattened hair as if to prove his point. 

Lykos barked out another string of laughs, hands raising to his forehead, “You should have seen your face, pup! You looked like a spring deer!”

Dusk glared at him, and splashed a wave of water in his direction. Lykos caught some in his mouth and began to cough which made Dusk grin triumphantly. He leaned back against a rock, watching the other man struggle for the moment.

“Don’t die,” he called, “I’d hate for you to be wrong.”

Lykos finally finished getting the water out from his lungs, and rolled his eyes. “Oh please, in my true form I don’t need air. I wouldn’t need it while like this, either, if it weren’t so convenient.”

“Convenient?” 

“Mortal bodies tend to die if you don’t give them air.”

“So you are mortal then.”

“By some definitions.”

“But you just—“

“Pup, I can give life to sand, stone, air, even mere language. I can make flesh do what I wish. If this body died, I would simply make another.”

Dusk thought about that, brows furrowed. “Can all of the spirits do that?”

Lykos rolled his shoulders in a shrug, “Some. Boreas can, as can Fugue and Lunas. Rufus I believe has tried very hard, but his domain is too solid for him to get very far.”

“The earth isn’t as unmoving as many believe.”

“It isn’t him who makes it move,” Lykos winked. 

“What of Bigaloe?”

“They are the wind and sky, they can barely hold a physical form to begin with.”

Dusk thought back to his battle with that particular wolf-spirit. The way their form had shifted and shimmered, glowing like the setting sun…it made sense.

  


“Spirit—“

“Don’t.”

“What?”

Lykos ran his hands through his hair moodily and sighed, “Call me by my name.”

Dusk hesitated, but nodded, “Lykos,”—it felt odd to say the spirit’s name allowed after all this time—“…why isn’t your existence noted in any of the tomes within the Library? I thought they had everything on the wolf-spirits that had ever been written.”

“They did.”

Dusk was quiet.

“‘What happened?’” Lykos mimicked his voice though Dusk hadn’t said anything. Lykos sighed again. “Have you given it any thought as to why this land is called the Hidden Desert?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think?”

“The mountains of Rufus are impassable unless you know the single path through them.”

“And why do you think that is the case?”

“…I had thought it was just the nature of the region.”

“We are nature. We define it.” Lykos exhaled deeply. “Rufus did a wonderful job, I couldn’t be more proud, really. His stonework is…beautiful, even from afar.”

“…” he frowned further, and finally asked, “…Lykos what happened?”

There was quiet for a long while, little more than water and the distant pitter-patter of paws that clued Dusk in that the spirit’s cruelty hadn’t lasted. Finally, Lykos spoke. 

“I was exiled, for acting out of place.”

“W—,” Dusk stopped himself, but Lykos answered regardless.

“I tried to re-create the life our all-mother had already sewn, that—“ he gestured towards the pups, “—Is not just a side effect. It was my original purpose.”

“But…”

“But,” he agreed, “I went too far. So I was exiled here, to live out my life as an unassuming sun-god for these people, and keep the history of everything, to see what became of the world I was not allowed to partake in.”

  


Dusk nodded, folding his arms over his chest. Exiled millennia ago, and inadvertently saved from the corruption that had plagued the other spirits. He silently mused about the irony.

“Now you know,” Lykos tacked on, tone stiff and awkward.

He exhaled a soft breath and looked back to Lykos, “Now that, is cruelty.”

A snort. “Tell me about it, pup.”

“You told me to use your name, offer me the same courtesy.”

Lykos looked to him. Dusk didn’t know what to make of those golden eyes. 

“Alright, Dusk.”

He felt very raw, at that moment, like he was seeing Lykos for the first time, and the spirit was seeing _ him _ for the first time. He wondered what was going through his mind at that moment. Dusk closed his eyes, strangely content under the moonlight. He could feel the water ripple and lap around him and the rock he was lying back against. Around him in the air there was a slight breeze that turned his skin into gooseflesh. 

  


He didn’t sense Lykos near him until he felt two rough, damp hands slide up his torso. Dusk’s breath caught, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. The hands moved to his own, and Dusk let his arms be slowly uncrossed from his chest. 

They were lifted, stretched back over his head by those hands—gentle, gentle hands. 

Dusk wet his lips, nervous but still unwilling to open his eyes. He didn’t know what he wanted to see. 

Warm, soft breaths puffed against his skin. 

He was so close, so near, and Dusk didn’t know why he was allowing this. He was meant to destroy the wolf-spirits, free them from corruption and gain their songs so they could be reborn and restore nature’s balance. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what he was meant to do. 

He could have tore out of Lykos’ hold right then, it wasn’t particularly strong and he was sturdy from his travels thus far, but he didn’t. He needed to know. 

  


Warm, slightly-damp lips grazed the corner of his own. Maybe Lykos had his eyes closed as well. 

Dusk couldn’t stop himself from gasping, the gesture so foreign and odd in this moment. Lykos tried again, this time connecting fully with Dusk’s lips.

Gentle, gentle. 

A quiet noise came from the spirit, and Dusk echoed it with a hum, pressing forward against his mouth. At that moment, Lykos released his wrists, so Dusk reached them forward, putting his hands on either side of the other’s head. Slow, he tilted his head and moved his mouth, sliding his lips against Lykos’ with care. 

He couldn’t hear any of the sand pups, maybe they were sentient enough to know not to watch, but he could hear Lykos’ heartbeat. And his own for that matter. Both were quicker than they had been before. 

There was the quiet noise of parting mouths, and Lykos drew back an inch, nose still pressed to Dusk’s. 

“So you…” he heard Lykos murmur the question.

“Yes,” he answered. 

He didn’t even know what he was agreeing to, he just knew he agreed. He was a fool for agreeing.

Dusk pulled Lykos to him once more, feeling him rest a little more of his chest against Dusk’s. A tiny smile tugged earnestly at the corners of his mouth, and they kissed again.


End file.
